Five Stages, The Crushed Soul: or, I just realized it wasn’t the kit lens after all

The photographer honestly thought they were getting somewhere. Then it all went bad.

(Image: R.Crapnell)

All of a sudden, the siblings weren’t interested in another shoot and of fifty images sent away to national competitions only one was accepted and that was because it entered surreptitiously in the newbie section of the Outer Digby Rotary Club Art Show where an auntie sat on the panel. Even then it was just an acceptance.

Seems like the kit lens wasn’t the only thing between the Gear Snob and being the next Steve Parish.

The Prosumer all too often ends up a Crushed Soul, though the timing and severity can vary greatly depending on the photographer’s predisposition to Gear Snobbery and Prosumerism. The Crushed Soul is what can happen after the goodwill and wonder of the meteoric Awakening Artist and Gear Snob days pass and the gap between perception and capability becomes too wide to ignore even for the Prosumer.

As image quality hovers around "pretty good" the reality begins to sink in that competence can't be bought and faking it isn't making it. It'll take years to push through to "really quite good" and perhaps "bloody brilliant" is forever beyond the photographer's reach. Worst of all, the Crushed Soul may well look at all that expensive gear and just give up, selling it all at auction and buying a game console or Harley Davidson instead (depending on how bad a Gear Snob they had been). But that's okay, the rest of us who push on will scoop that cheap second hand gear up quickly enough.

The Crushed Soul can even be a former Prosumer who actually made it into professional photography and then managed to turn photography into a job. These are the guys who end up grinding away at weddings, family shoots and baby showers when they really wanted to be Ansell Adams, Joe McNally, Steve McCurry or whoever it is that shoots for Hustler. To these folk go the dubious distinction of turning art into work.

These could possibly be the true Lost Souls of photography, clocking on to do something they don’t like all week and then suffering the injustice of not wanting to pick up a camera on the weekend (or more likely on Monday or possibly Wednesday afternoon) because they can't stand the thought of even one more click. At least if they had a real job they could still be stressed and bored during the week yet shoot what they wanted on the weekend.

But the Crushed Soul is not inevitable state. Or at least, it need not be a lasting one. In fact, the brutal return to reality that often heralds this phase can be a great boon to an amateur photographer's personal practice. In the best case, this can trigger a return to the stuff that the photographer actually wants to shoot, rather than what they think they should be shooting.

If the Crushed Soul can lift themselves out of their funk, then the long, warm and fuzzily golden phase of the True Enthusiast beckons...

Tips for a Crushed Soul from a bloke who has been there:

Take the criticism on the chin and move on. That's it, really.

Five Stages, The Prosumer: or, I just realized I could do this for a living

With all this new gear, finally the photographer can get serious and take some good photos.

(Image: R.Crapnell)

This stage is actually optional, or at least has many different manifestations. The Newbie Prosumer may present as the Local Gallery Fine Art Photographer, or Neighbourhood Event Photojournalist, the Weekend Fashion Tog, or the Under 16’s Sports Reporter or maybe even the Local Wilderness Explorer. Whatever field it was that inspired the Awakening Artist phase to create art through photography inspires the Prosumer to make money through photography.

The logic is simple; the Prosumer is probably three quarters of the way to being able to make good images fairly consistently. This stage can be reached quite quickly by a diligent student with a modicum of talent and some half decent gear. The problem is that it is actually that last quarter of the journey to "top-notch" that really matters, and the effort required to achieve that last quarter is not proportional to the rest. That is to say the least.

Nonetheless, the Prosumer reaches a point where they think because they are now okay (or possibly even pretty good) they can start charging money to pay for a bit of gear and, heck, maybe even turn photography into a living. This misplaced optimism is aggravated by the fact that most of us have a circle of friends and family who make easy marks for some “intro shoots” at cut prices. Y’know to help build the portfolio before setting up a business and getting professional? 

The trouble starts when that finite pool of willing subjects dries up and reality strikes. Friends and family start getting scarce; they never seem to be home, start wearing disguises and occasionally just move away. Then, The Prosumer must start looking for fresh marks, a process that often doesn't end well. Finding that complete strangers are less inclined that well meaning friends to cough up their hard-earned for an okay photo can be taken as many things, from a clarion call to lift your game to an ignoble slap in the face. But it should never be a surprise.

But being a Prosumer is not all bad. Being an okay photographer may not put enough food on the table (though it may pay for an occasional lens) but taking okay photos actually translates quite easily into making a bit of beer money. It’s up there with playing in a band made up of old mates doing much the same kind of stuff; weddings, parties, bar mitzvahs and the occasional model.

Usually most of the overheads have been met in the Gear Snob phase of a photographer’s development, and ongoing costs are pretty low in the age of digital photography. Which leads to the potential upside of the Prosumer phase, if the photographer can be robust with about rejection and keep on touting for work. They may forsake all their friends, but every now and again the incorrigible Prosumer will pop a job.

In short, don’t knock the Prosumer but don’t overdo it, either. Being the Prosumer can mean being the pain in the arse who always turns up at a BBQ with their camera bag and periodically leans on friends for just one more shoot. But being the the Prosumer can also be a dynamic thing. It is a time for putting things on the line, of pinning up work for public scrutiny, of taking a brief and carrying it through, of taking a risk… and of possibly even making it.

At its best, being the Prosumer can be a great catalyst for improving photography through critique, by presenting new challenges and generally being a bit of a fun. At its worst, the Prosumer will only find disappointment, shattered dreams, friends who pretend they aren’t home and a bad back from carrying a heavy DSLR around everywhere.

Enjoy the inner Prosumer; toke it, just don't inhale.

Tips for the Newbie Prosumer from a bloke who has been there:

Live it. Exploit it. Love it. But don’t kid yourself, don't hassle your friends too much and, above all, don’t take yourself too seriously. Oh, and stop carrying your camera everywhere.

*Note, a few photographers do just punch straight through Prosumer to Professional and live happily ever after. Obviously I am not talking about those bastards here.

Hacks for Developing and Enlarging in a Hot and Humid Climate

Four things:

1. Film Handling: Just say no to loading 120 in a change bag at 27 degrees
2. Film Handling: Don’t fully rewind your film, so you can lead on your spool outside the change bag 
3. Temperature control; pre mixing and plastic ice cubes
4. Temperature control; it takes much longer to warm up than cool down

Scooter, Adelaide St (Image R.Crapnell Ilford HP5)

Developing and enlarging film at home is fun. However, as finding a tutor can be tough for the amateur enthusiast so we have to rely on books and even the instawebs to learn the processes. Luckily, there is a wealth of material out there.

However, even in my short journey I have discovered that there is one major problem with book-learnin’ photography in a subtropical environment; the vast majority of that great literature was written by people who seemed to do most of their development in temperate environments.

As developing film and printing photographs is highly sensitive to both time and temperature, this presents some problems for the beginner with limited equipment. Using chemicals that are recommended to be used at 20^oC in a 27^oC environment presents issues of rapid warming, even over the course of ten minutes. To make things worse, the higher the temperature, the more rapid any chemical reaction so warm conditions will dictate faster times and so therefore higher relative errors related to timing.

While stumbling through teaching myself film photography, I came up with a few hacks that make managing temperature easier in a hotter climate. Once I got the hang of temperature control I found that although a hotter environment is a hassle during the film handling stage, it actually delivers some advantages when souping chemicals for development and enlarging. 

Film Handling in a Hot Change Bag: Just Say No to Loading 120 Format Film in a Change Bag at 27 degrees

Change bags get hot and humid very quickly, with disastrous effects on loading 120 format film onto developing reels. In short, those wide and long sheets of acetate buckle very quickly in the heat, making it impossible to load a developing reel.

I have ruined several rolls trying to load 120 in a bag when it is too hot. After the second roll, I used the dud film to practice loading the film in the open air and it worked fine each time. However, even when I started the roll on the spool outside the bag, once in the bag it only took a few seconds for the broad sheet of acetate to warp and jam the spool.

Just don’t load 120 format film onto reels in a change bag when it is too hot. Wait till night time, then do it on the desk top in the dark room.

Film Handling in a Hot Change Bag: Don’t fully rewind your film

Following from the observation above regarding 120 film, even 35mm film can be hard to mount on a developing reel when it is too hot.

However, the problem is not so acute with the stiffer, thinner 35mm film and the key is to get in and out of the bag as quickly as possible. One way to help this is to make sure you don’t rewind your film all the way back into the can when you finish it. This is easily done by feel on a manual camera (wait till the tension goes slack on the rewind wheel, then give it one more turn) but is, well, impossible on an automatic one. Even then, there are plenty of tricks for getting the tongue of a roll out of the can.

Then, after clipping off the tongue of the film, use the frames that were already exposed while winding the film on to start loading the spool., it is possible to start loading a reel before putting it in the change bag. Then when the bag is closed, just crank the film on a bit at a time, leading out film from the can as required. When the film is spooled on, the can makes a handy guide for making a nice square clip at the end.

If you can start the roll outside the bag, you are saving precious seconds that will reduce the time the film is exposed to the sauna-like conditions of a change bag on a hot day. It also means that when you are winding the film on, you can better control the exposed film by only extracting the length you need one turn at a time and thus limit the chance of contact with fingers, skin or fabric inside the bag.

In fact, this tip is good whether you work in a hot climate or not.

Temperature Control: Premixing and Plastic Ice Cubes

It is always better to use distilled or at least filtered water when mixing chemicals. However, tap water is good enough when you are just learning as its convenience far outweighs the benefits of distilled or filtered water when so many other factors will affect the print. Also, since tap water in a hot climate will usually be warmer than the required temperatures for souping, you don’t have to worry about contaminated water from heating systems.

When mixing chemicals immediately before use, it is better to get the water temperature right before souping. This is one way in which a warmer climate has an advantage over a cool one, because usually the water will just have to be cooled, removing the temptation to mix hot tap water with your chemicals. Tap water is bad enough, but water out of a kettle or hot water system should be avoided even in the learning stages; just don’t use it. So, simply fill a large bucket or jug with water out of the tap and cool it with ice cubes. The nice thing here is that if you cool too much you can just add more warm water from the cold water tap.

If your chemicals are already deployed in trays or tanks, it can be more difficult to manage temperature. Use some plastic ice cubes (plastic moulds filled with water) to moderate temperatures in this case as they will not dilute the chemicals. Also, by removing the cubes one at a time, you can moderate the rate of heat exchange till your tray stays stable for longer. Make sure you take the cubes out and swish the water around before you put a print through, though, or you may have radically different development rates across the print.

Temperature Control: It takes longer to heat up than cool down

Ice cubes bring down temperatures fast, while warming by ambient air temperature takes longer. Cooling down too fast means you can spend a lot of time getting the chemicals back up to operating temperature.

If you have already mixed your chemicals, simply adding slightly warmer water from the cold tap is not the answer as it will dilute the temperatures too much. Adding hot water from a tap or kettle delivers more heat for less volume, carries its own dangers of contaminants. To accelerate warming, you can try dispensing the chemistry into more trays to increase the surface area and make it warm more quickly, or use small amounts of water heated in a microwave or very clean pot (that is not used for cooking!).

A Long Overdue First Print

Three things:

1. Don’t wait for the perfect darkroom
2. Let the process pan out before you decide you stuffed it up
3. Every photograph is different

Andre, Kurilpa Bridge (Image: R.Crapnell, Ilford HP5 f8 1/125)

The moment I opened the envelope containing lab-developed prints from my first roll of Kodak Gold, I knew that I wanted to master the process of capturing, processing and enlarging images for myself. After almost a year, I have finally managed to print a legible photograph from a roll of film I shot and developed myself.

Of course, banging out a low contrast, badly focused and misaligned image falls some way short of “mastering”, but I was still rather proud of myself.

I have been developing my own black and white film for almost a year now, and we had hoped to start printing shortly after we moved into the studio. Alas, the darkroom in the studio had troublesome plumbing and never really came up to scratch. Over the last couple of months I managed to scrape together the necessities of a basic dark room; medium format enlarger, trays, chemicals, paper and all the other bits and pieces. The only thing missing was the dark room itself.

Finally, I decided to just do it and contrived a cheap and nasty black-out kit for my kitchen and set up the gear. With my downloaded guide to printing black and white photos memorized, I turned out the lights and did my first test strip on the Durst C35 enlarger. I ran through the two second test exposure segments before dropping the print into the developer bath and hoping. In the glow of the safelight, my heart sunk as it appeared to me that the print showed as far too dark across the whole image.

Already thinking about how I should adjust the enlarger, I went through the stop and fix process just for the practice and plopped the print into the rinse. Flicking on the main light, I thumbed through the enlarger manual to see how I could dial down the exposure. But when I turned back to the rinse, the photograph floating there showed a nice clear set of exposure gradations.

I chose four seconds as the best time, and ran through the print process for real. The end result was a badly focused, low-contrast and crooked image that brought a lump to my throat and now sits on the first page of my new photo album. Three other photos quickly followed, one of which was my long awaited first image from my Pentax 67.

I learned three things from this effort. The first was, of course, that I should not have waited for the perfect dark room setup before I started printing photographs. I wasted months hung up by some dodgy plumbing while all I needed to do was tape up a window, hang a black out curtain and wait for the sun to go down.

The second was that while film developing is an exacting art, it is not an exact science. Running that test strip through, I was ready to search for a solution to a non-existent problem rather than just wait for things to pan out. I will keep a notebook handy and try to capture all of these little quirks as they happen.

Third is that every printed photograph is an individual image with its own quirks. My first fumbling attempts at dodging and burning showed that the film negative is just a template (yeah, obvious, but it took a while for me to figure it out) from which many interpretations of an image can be made, and no two of those interpretations will be the same.